


Something Happy

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Courtship, F/M, Family, Marriage, Parenthood, Politics, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 14:44:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5209814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sigrid, Princess of Dale, and Crown Prince Fili of Erebor have decided to begin courting. Bard fears his daughter has made a dutiful decision of great responsibility with no thought for her own happiness. He still worries greatly, despite the duties that compel him now as a King. He meets with Dis to discuss the courtship of their children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Happy

 

 

 

The knock at the door was very expected. Sigrid’s gaze immediately fixed on the door, then on her father. Bard got to his feet, Tilda close behind him. She was excited because a Dwarf was about to visit. Bain’s excitement wasn’t as obvious but it was there. They’d all heard stories about this particular Dwarf.

 

Bard went to answer the door. The multitude of emotions this meeting had stirred up and the resulting ache didn't show on his face. His daughter was growing up and there was still so much to be done in Dale and Laketown but here Bard was, about to discuss his eldest's betrothal. He felt older and wearier than even days of clearing rubble and making weighty decisions had not caused. He missed his wife with the kind of sharp freshness of pain that he hadn’t felt for many years. He opened the door.

 

Princess Dis, Lady of the Mountain, sister to the King and mother to two Crown Princes, stood there expectantly. She wore breeches, shirt and jerkin, all sturdy and of fine quality. Gold jewellery was woven into her long fair hair and beard and there was a sword strapped to her belt. She was a warrior and royalty and her eyes held the same clear brightness as her sons’.

 

Bard bowed to her, the movement still awkward for him. He’d never bowed to the Master but Dis was a princess and the Dwarves, now that the battle was done and Thorin was still recovering from his wounds, had been good to Dale and Laketown. Bard had been able to negotiate with them on many matters, from trade to rebuilding. There had been arguments and very difficult days but the alliance had held. And now here was Dis, for another negotiation.

 

“Your Highness,” Bard said, standing aside. “You’re welcome here.”

 

Dis inclined her head and then echoed his bow, her gaze amused and inviting him to be amused too, “Your Highness, thank you.”

 

There were a couple of Dwarf guards outside who nodded to Bard, one more willingly than the other. Bard returned the gesture as Dis stepped past him, “There’s food and drink enough for them, if they’re going to stay out there in the chill winds.”

 

Dis’s amusement grew, “They’ve braved far worse many times, Dwarves are stone beneath flesh, isn’t that the story? That we have stones for hearts as well as bones? But a meal would be gladly received, drink too so long as it doesn’t addle them.”

 

A fair call. Bard could feel Tilda clutching at his breeches and her eyes were big as she gazed at Dis who, though small, seemed to fill the room. She didn’t have her brother’s hardness, not obviously anyway. Bard doubted any Dwarf was without steel at their side or indeed stone inside. Still, Dis smiled at Tilda and Bain who was close behind.

 

“My youngest, Tilda, and my son, Bain,” Bard introduced them.

 

Dis was the same height as Bain and she grasped his hand firmly, as though he were a Man, “Dis of the Blue Mountains, now of Erebor. You’ve been learning the sword with my sons.”

 

Kili and Fili were up and about but were scarred, Fili especially, and were working hard to regain their former agility. Bain was eager to learn their swordwork, as eager as he was to learn from the Elves also, and Kili and Fili had been happy to tutor him as Dwalin tutored them. Dwalin kept an eye on their lessons, apparently wanting to make sure they were teaching Bain right. So far Bain had only come home with bumps and bruises. Bard knew it wouldn’t always be the way but he also knew his son had lived through hardship and dragon and wanted to be prepared. Gandalf had claimed there was more rising to contend with. Bain wasn’t yet a Man but he soon would be and there was that ache again, at Bard’s children growing so quickly, aided and forged by this world, this place, their blood.

 

Bain spoke quickly, “They said...did you really defeat Wargs and Orcs when you were outnumbered and Kili and Fili were babies strapped to your chest?”

 

Dis smiled widely, wearing a look of Dwarvish battle glee that Bard recognised, “It’s a fine story you’ve been told. I’ll make sure it’s been told to you right though.”

 

Tilda was stepping forward now, less transfixed perhaps by this impressive stranger now that she’d seen Dis smile, “I like the sparkles in your beard.”

 

Dis bent just a little so that she could bring the jewellery closer to Tilda, “Is there one you like best?”

 

Tilda cocked her head and looked carefully, quite relaxed at being so close to an armed Dwarf, and pointed to a bauble that was dark blue and rimmed with gold.

 

“That one. It’s like the lake.”

 

Dis’ expression warmed with real pleasure, “A very good eye you have there. That was a gift from my husband, he made it himself. He was even better than Thorin with delicate metals.”

 

Tilda’s face lit up, “Like the necklace Da gave to Ma and the beads Fili gave to Sigrid.”

 

Dis nodded and straightened again, “I think so, now where is your sister?”

 

Sigrid was in the kitchen, making up meals and drink for the Dwarf guardsmen who had accompanied Dis. Dis smiled, a look of real motherly approval on her face. It was quite jarring – Dis was so obviously a warrior but she was a mother also and no doubt a politician. Bard had seen no sign of the latter in Thorin, only a stubbornness and a dragon fever that had nearly cost them all even more than had been taken in the end. Bard had never seen such warmth as Dis wore on Thorin’s face. Considering the topic of the evening, it was very good to see.

 

“Your brother and sister will take that,” Bard told Sigrid, calling for her attention.

 

Tilda and Bard, excited by the prospect of spending time with more Dwarves, quickly loaded themselves up and left the house, nodding distractedly at Bard’s instructions to stay with the Dwarves, no wandering off anywhere.

 

“They’ll be safe out with the guards,” Dis told him before turning to Sigrid with an open smile. “Daughter.”

 

That was...presumptive and even more jarring and increased Bard’s ache. But Sigrid’s smile was small and happy and she accepted a hug from the princess. Dis cupped a hand to Sigrid’s face affectionately and then tucked Sigrid’s arm through the loop of hers. Dis’ expression was decisive and firm when it fixed on Bard, chiming with Bard’s thoughts. His teeth clenched, he had questions and he did not want to affect the alliance between Men and Dwarves, not in these still-precarious times. He hoped Dis would prove more receptive to questions than her brother.

 

“Come.”

 

He led the way to where they could sit, Sigrid and Dis beside one another and then Bard on his own. He stoked up the fire, offered Dis a drink or meal, both of which she refused, before sitting back in his chair, gathering his thoughts. Sigrid appeared not resigned but resolute and hopeful, in her own quiet way; he could see that plain enough, like she was willing him to listen. She’d been spending time at the mountain, first to help in the kitchens and the healing rooms because Dwarves were helping Laketown and Dale rebuild and it was only right that Men should offer help to the Dwarves in return. Bard had been proud of Sigrid’s desire to help the Dwarves, she’d told him she truly wanted to help them, to thank them for all they’d done. And she’d told Bard that she enjoyed spending time again with the Dwarves of Thorin’s Company.

 

Now it seemed she’d been spending time with Fili most of all because she wore several braids in her long hair, each fastened with a trinket made by Fili or of familial significance to the Crown Prince. It showed that his intentions towards her were serious, Sigrid had told Bard, just as the beads that Tauriel wore in her hair spoke the same of Kili. Fili himself wore a braid in his hair wound with significant ribbon that, according to Sigrid, revealed his decision to court with great intentions.

 

Dwarf courting, Bard had begun to discover, was structured and considered. He had heard stories of Dwarves, of their wildness and savagery, of their brutal manners and inconsideration of anything or anyone but their own kind. He had seen much of that in Thorin and in many other Dwarves but he’d also come to recognise that Dwarves had their own codes and manners, even if they seemed so very strange to Men. Whatever Fili intended, he was going about it very formally. Bard still wanted to be sure though, this was his daughter and so much was at stake now. Most of all though, despite the crown that always felt uncomfortable across his brow and the long precedent set for royalty betrothed to forge and deepen alliances, Bard was concerned for his daughter. He would not have her unhappy or suffocated by duty and responsibility. It was in his power to stand against that and he would.

 

Dis waited as though used to such delays and Sigrid watched her father until Bard found the words to speak.

 

“I don’t know much about Dwarven courtships,” he began. “Only what I’ve heard from Tauriel who I trust and from your son, who I don’t know.”

 

Dis nodded, the charms in her hair and beard tinkling, “Then I’ll account for it. A courtship is not taken lightly amongst Dwarves. It is intended to ensure a strong marriage, to smelt out impurities, to prevent a mistake being made.”

 

That sounded sensible. Bard nodded his understanding and Dis continued, “So a Dwarf will tell their intended of their hope for a courtship, their intended will either refuse or accept. If accepted, the asker will offer several beads or fastenings for the one asked to wear in courting braids. Sometimes they are handed down through family; others are made by the asker.”

 

Here, Dis turned to Sigrid and touched an emerald-green clasp in Sigrid's hair, “This one Fili made recently once he was fit enough to. These onyx beads I made for Stird, my husband, and this gold fastening was made by Thror, my grandfather. The blue is another made by Fili.”

 

They were personal gifts, of family and of hard work and stories; they showed what effort the asker was willing to make; to spend hours designing and perfecting such gifts for their intended. Sigrid leaned a little so that Bard could see closer the decorations that Dis had described. He smiled slightly at her and touched a hand to her chin.

 

“To my meagre knowledge, it’s fine work,” he told Dis.

 

Dis inclined her head, pleased. “It is. Then once the one asked has worn the gifts, to publicly acknowledge a courting, they present the asker with a fastening to wear in their courting braid in return.”

 

Bard raised his eyebrows, from the stories he’d heard Sigrid hadn’t gifted Fili with any such fastening nor had Fili been seen with any. Sigrid nodded at his silent question, one hand fiddling with her wrist.

 

“I thought, I can’t make him anything but there’s my bracelet. He could have a piece of it.”

 

Her bracelet had been a birthday gift from Bard several years before, a paltry but almost pretty trinket, bought from visiting smiths and merchants. She treasured it, Bard didn’t like the idea of her losing something so precious to her.

 

Dis was examining the bracelet, “Fili could mend this once a piece was taken.”

 

Sigrid looked relieved and Bard nodded at the kind useful thought. But there was more he would know yet before giving any hint of permission granted. Dis was weaving a pretty courtship tale but Bard had no doubt that there was more to tell, at least for Fili and Sigrid, royalty and heaped with expectations.

 

“There’s more,” he stated, his gaze fixed on Dis, quiet but firm.

 

Dis nodded in return, equally firm, “Any objections to a courtship are brought to the royal house for arbitration. If those chaperoning feel the couple must spend time apart, then they must, without question. And as Fili is direct heir to become King Under the Mountain, there is the question of heirs as well.”

 

Bard shifted in his seat. Dis spoke so matter-of-factly of things he rarely broached with his children, there were women in Dale for that, there always had been. Sigrid coloured a little but didn’t shrink away, had she discussed this before? With Fili?

 

“We’ve spoken to Oin,” Sigrid said carefully, answering Bard’s unspoken question and not looking directly at him. “He thinks it is a risk but not a great one.”

 

Dis nodded, taking Sigrid’s hand in her firm grasp, “You are willing to face this risk?”

 

Sigrid nodded, swallowing a little but replying, “I am.”

 

Bard tried very hard not to think of such a conversation occurring in the mountain, between his daughter and the Crown Prince and healer Oin with his ear trumpet. How loudly had they had to speak for him to hear? His daughter had been discussing having children. She was only a child herself, only she was not, not anymore.

 

Dis smiled through her own seriousness and patted Sigrid’s hand. “Then your father and I will speak. I’ll wager he has questions on his mind to be discussed away from his children’s ears.”

 

That was true. Sigrid got to her feet with a last warm look towards Dis and bussed a kiss to Bard’s cheek as she passed. Her expression implored him still to listen. He would; he also knew his daughter was greatly thinking of this possible betrothal as the right thing to do. Bard had not wanted that for her marriage; he had wanted her to make a good sensible choice but not one binding her so by duty. He had wanted her to seek more than that. But she had made this plan, with Fili apparently, so political, so dutiful, so much care involved it seemed with the beads and fastenings and conversations. Bard felt turned, old and weary still, worried and proud.

 

Dis’ hair and beard decorations glimmered in the firelight. Bard could see many years in her eyes, Sigrid had mentioned that Dis was a widow and had lost her brother Frerin too and she had raised those princes whilst no doubt seeing to Thorin too.

 

“You’ve raised a strong daughter,” she stated. “She’s much to be proud of.”

 

Indeed, a good thought and yet... “I am, though I wish the need for her strength was less than it’s always been.”

 

Dis nodded, “She was young when her mother died.”

 

Bard cleared his throat, that pain of many years ago now so fresh at thoughts of Sigrid courting. He thought of his own courtship, such as it was. The ways of Men were less structured, or perhaps it was just so in Laketown.

 

“A fever took her, not long after Tilda’s birth,” he replied, his voice suddenly rusty. “Sigrid’s held responsibility for much since then, not from any words from me, she just took to it, and now there’s more on her shoulders with her father King of Dale.”

 

“She carries it well,” Dis told him simply. “My sons were born to it and now, as my brother lies healing, they are the Crown Princes Erebor needs. Your Sigrid is a match to them.”

 

There was something wistful to her face and voice and Bard wondered if she’d ever wanted a daughter. As far as he could tell, female Dwarves were not rare but they were not numerous either. And Dis had come to Erebor, perhaps not knowing what her brother had done, who had lived and who had died. She was strong too, like the stone of Dwarf stories.

 

“I am sorry,” Dis said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. “That you were treated as you were when my brother was fevered with gold. In truth, his heart has been heavy since Frerin’s death and our father’s disappearance. He has pinned everything to Erebor for so long.”

 

She gave a hint of a smile at Bard’s expression, for how had she known the direction of his thoughts? “I know the look people get when they think of Thorin Oakenshield.”

 

That made Bard’s lips twitch. But then he thought of the stories told about Thorin Oakenshield and his family line. He thought about which ones could be true, the blood his daughter was looking to join with.

 

“It’s not yours to be sorry for,” Bard replied at last.

 

“My brother still lies between wakefulness and death; my sons are now carrying the kingdom on their shoulders. I’m sure they apologised, now I do too.”

 

Her face was solemn, this was obviously important to her so Bard nodded. Then he plunged forth and spoke of what crept so strongly on his mind and that made him ache so.

 

“I don’t want my daughter tied by duty, I don’t want her bartered as a treaty or alliance and I know that’s expected of her. My council in Laketown have talked of it.”

 

Those hadn’t been pleasant meetings, at all. Bard had listened, though his blood had boiled at the thought of Sigrid sent away somewhere, living with someone she did not know, for duty and responsibility, not complaining if she was hurt or troubled because she knew the strength and importance of such a marriage. Too much of her life already had been eaten by such things. Still he had told his council he would think on it, because to refuse outright would have caused rebellion, no matter his own thoughts on it. And so here he was. Politics would drive him mad but it would not drive him to cruelty.

 

“She tells me marrying Fili will be good for Laketown, for Dale, and Erebor.”

 

Dis nodded in agreement, “Our alliance is strong but marriage is a tie that cannot be unbound, it’s always been so. There are still Dwarves who talk of not needing Men or Elves as friends but many are wise to how the battle was won together and that there will be more battles to come.”

 

There were Men who wanted nothing to do with the Dwarves and Elves too. If Fili and Sigrid married, it would strongly state the importance and long-lasting intention of the alliance between Dwarves and Men. It made sense; it was the sort of decision that any leader would make. But...

 

“I’ll not claim that Fili loves her,” Dis said. “But he has affection for her friendship and he knows what will be asked of him, even if my brother makes a full recovery and reclaims the throne.”

 

Bard felt the ache and his mouth was dry as dust, “Heirs.”

 

“Heirs, or at least a strong marriage towards it. There are those that wish for him to keep his blood pure and marry Dwarven. But he sees the wisdom of strengthening an alliance which can secure the future in more ways than one.”

 

This was the crux of Bard’s worries. His eyes were flinty as he gave such worries voice, “But does he also see my daughter?”

 

He would not have Sigrid married as a treasure to be hoarded, to be prized only for the power and strength such an alliance would bring, for the heirs she could provide. She was worth more than that. She deserved happiness; in a life that they both knew would forever now be bound too much by duty.

 

Dis’ expression seemed to encompass Bard’s worries. Did she worry the same for her sons?

 

“He’s told me of many conversations with Sigrid, how she showed him Laketown and Dale, how he enjoys her company and admires her. He sees how she talks to the Dwarves of Erebor and how she likes the company of Kili and Tauriel. He sees her as a fine match for the Crown Prince of Erebor, and for Fili of the Blue Mountains, the son of a blacksmith and metal-worker who was never supposed to marry a princess.”

 

Dis was describing a story for children, too pretty to be true. But there was nothing but conviction in her gaze and a tale of a friendship that could become love or in the least would be enjoyable companionship was a familiar one and true. Bard had spied the strength of his daughter’s decision in her expression, lifted right from him and his blood.

 

Dis was mother and princess, Bard was father and king. They were both more of course but such things were their focus, their drives. Royal blood, the growth and strength of their people, and their children’s hearts. Bard's gaze did not lose its flintiness.

 

“He will make her happy.”

 

The words were more a command than a question and Dis smiled, “He will endeavour beyond doubt to do so.”

 

That was a command equal to Bard’s. Bard wondered at the conversations that Dis might have had with her eldest son about Bard’s eldest daughter.

 

He sighed, “I’ve caught her smiling, her fingers on those hair beads of his. She thinks I don’t see her.”

 

There’d been something quietly hopeful and warm in that small smile of Sigrid’s, Bard couldn’t say when he’d last seen her wear a look like that. He wanted to protect that, to protect her.

 

“Kili’s been teasing Fili,” Dis reported with a nostalgic smile of her own. “As though he’s one to talk.”

 

Bard had seen Tauriel smile too, in her own restrained way. It’d been good to see some weight lift from her. He doubted she was welcomed by all in Erebor and yet she persevered, because she cared for Kili. There would be fresh strange blood in the Durin line, whether there were objections or not.

 

Speaking of which, some of Dis’ words had stuck and Bard turned his own towards them.

 

“Your husband wasn’t approved of?”

 

Dis’ smile became broad and loving, her fingers closing around a particular hair charm, “He wasn’t royalty or nobility and my father had grand plans for my marriage. But Stird and I decided to marry anyway, we would produce fine strong heirs for the Durin line and my father couldn’t complain at that.”

 

Bard could guess at the arguments such a pairing had caused. Dis looked delighted at the memories, at thinking of her late husband. So she knew all about marrying beyond duty. Bard’s councillors had called for a good match for Sigrid, someone to establish Dale as a strong kingdom. Bard cared deeply for protecting his people, not for laying claim to anything else. This suggested union would help in that.

 

“Sometimes I can’t think that I’m seeing my sons to marriage,” Dis commented, her years in her eyes again. “I remember them too well under everyone’s feet in the forge, causing trouble for Dwalin as he taught them the sword, as Thorin and I made sure they had a people to lead when they came of age.”

 

Bard could imagine Dis as a good leader, a strong one but with the empathy Thorin lacked. He could imagine Kili and Fili being a young handful too.

 

“Aye, Sigrid’s my eldest but I can remember how small she was,” he revealed, knowing he was speaking to one who understood. “Now she’s decided on this step and I don’t want her to carry this much weight. But your son makes her smile.”

 

Dis clearly heard the decision in his words because she sat back, “Courting can take years for some Dwarves but I’m sure your Men will get impatient, as will Dwarves that want Fili to marry of their choosing. I would say they can continue, chaperoned, for a few months and we will take account of matters then.”

 

Bard looked at her closely, “We can account?”

 

Dis’ smile was serene, “All will be seen and accounted for. As royal houses, it is our place to arbitrate. Our council will too of course, so no cries can be made against the match.”

 

It sounded like more responsibility on Fili and Sigrid but it also felt like protection. Fili and Sigrid were making a choice, a good one and one they clearly felt well on, and Dis wanted to preserve that before the decision was made for them, for politics above all things, involving those that weren’t known or even liked. Bard could support that.

 

Still there was that pain inside of him as he thought of his absent wife, of the child he had once held so easily in his arms, who had been responsible for so much for so long and who had now taken on an even greater load. The child who had smiled and made a plan and a choice. Bard was proud of her, but still he ached, because she was still his child.

 

Dis seemed deep in thought too, producing a pipe and pouch of tobacco, the latter of which she offered Bard before stuffing her pipe bowl and lighting it contentedly. Bard breathed in the smoke, now keenly aware of the sound of Bain and Tilda outside with the Dwarves, their happy voices raised.

 

*

 

Once Dis had left, her guards saying a cheery goodbye to Tilda and Bain, Bard took Sigrid aside for a quiet word. The house still smelled of pipe smoke, it made Sigrid wear that small quiet smile again, as though the smell conjured happy memories. Bard felt that ache once more.

 

“The princess speaks well of you,” he said, the edge of his words gruff, powered by the ache under his ribs.

 

Sigrid’s smile flickered, “Fili and Kili are happy she’s there, in the mountain. The Erebor council listen to them but Dis is held high, because of the battles she’s won.”

 

Bard thought about the scars that the Crown Princes now bore, how for some time it’d seemed neither would survive their wounds. He felt sure Fili and Kili had their own respect and that if Fili ruled well and Kili added to that, such respect would only increase with time, as Dis’ had.

 

“She supports your courtship with Fili.”

 

Sigrid’s smile warmed even more, then she bit her lip and kept her gaze steady on Bard, “Do you, Da?”

 

She cut to the heart of things. Bard sighed, wiping a hand across his face. “The princess thinks he can make you happy and that you’ll be a good match to bind our alliance.”

 

Sigrid nodded and seemed to recognise there was more to come as she waited for him to continue. After a moment, he did.

 

“You know in Dale they want a strong alliance from your marriage.” Sigrid nodded. “All I’ve wanted is for you not be bound by our blood. But it’s taken you deeper and-.”

 

“You’ll lead them well, Da,” Sigrid told him, with youthful conviction and eyes that told of what she’d seen in Dale and Laketown for too many years. “You can’t, you can’t let _them_ take over again.”

 

She was right; he couldn’t, not while there was breath in his body and people looking to him, his children relying on him.

 

“Me, Sigrid, not you.”

 

Sigrid smiled slightly, sadness in there, “And after you, it’ll be us.”

 

That was very true and it made the air leave Bard’s lungs, especially when Sigrid continued, “Fili and I will have children, they will be Erebor’s heirs but one of them can be Dale’s as well.”

 

Was she trying to prevent Bain from wearing a crown? It was a kind thought, the eldest protecting the young. Bard pressed a hand to her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her skin, feeling that ache again. His daughter, his child.

 

“Bain’ll take the crown of Dale but if he or Tilda can’t, then a child from you will be looked to.”

 

Sigrid nodded. Had she and Fili talked about this? Had they worked on such details together when discussing a courtship? The two eldest children, both coming into power suddenly, both looked to for strong decisions. Bard shook his head.

 

“I never wanted this for you, politics and arrangements. It should be more that guides you with this.”

 

Sigrid smiled a little, “Would you have wanted me to marry a fisherman? A trader? If I'd loved them?”

 

Bard paused, thought of good sensible choices, and answered honestly, “If he could provide for you. I’ll admit that’s always been a thought too.”

 

“Fili can. And,” Sigrid dipped her gaze slightly, her hair-beads tinkling softly. “I like Fili. It’s not love but I think we could be content, and happy.”

 

Hope felt so thin and breakable these days, even with Fili on the throne of Erebor and Dale and Laketown rebuilding but it was good to hear such words from Sigrid. She had looked for something happy too. Bard leaned close to press a kiss to her forehead, still aching but pride and something warmer stirring in him too.

 

“You two have been making plans.”

 

It wasn’t quite an accusation and Sigrid’s smile grew, “We knew plans were being made, by those that support him and you as leaders and those that don’t. This makes sense for both of us, for Dale and Erebor.”

 

They’d wanted to make their own choice. That was admirable in a time when decisions had to be made quickly and always for the greater good. Personal happiness had not been a focus in many months, maybe years. Sigrid and Fili had found a way to touch upon it, to hope for greater stock. That didn’t lessen the ache inside Bard but it did settle something.

 

“I’m sorry you’ll lose a piece of your bracelet,” he told her, nodding towards the jewellery around her wrist, remembering well the day he’d bought it for her, how surprised she’d been, how she’d touched it over and over and had worn it so often since.

 

There was something sad and fond and warm in Sigrid’s expression.

 

“It will mostly still be mine and I think...I think I’ll like Fili wearing it too.”

 

_-the end_


End file.
